


Neon Impasse

by MintChocolateLeaves



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Twins, Angst, DCMKEmogust2019, Fluff, Humor, Multi, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-08-09 22:49:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20125132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintChocolateLeaves/pseuds/MintChocolateLeaves
Summary: And the feelings, whether light or dark, settled in their chests, keeping them awake at night recounting stories in their head as they fall to sleep.A series of oneshots for DCMK Emogust 2019.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts from DCMK Emogust 2019. A tumblr challenge that user Sup-Poki and I decided to create because we wanted to make each other feel things in a content war of sorts. [Emogust -- Emotional August]  
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Please enjoy the prompts!  
-  
Prompt: 05.08 - Heartbreaker  
Pairing: KID x Aoko / KaiAo

It isn’t that she means anything malicious by it.

The stars are just Aoko’s way of figuring things out. Of compartmentalising how she’s feeling, of placing the negative against paper, wrapping it up, compact, until all that remains is something bright.

An origami star, negativity turned into something bright. If she makes enough of them, then she gets a wish, right? Even if that’s supposed to be with origami cranes, even if there has to be a thousand.

Even if that’s not the _point._

Still, there’s nothing malicious about it, and that’s why, when she spots KID looking at her, a slightly broken expression twisting against his lips, she doesn’t really understand. She simply keeps folding her paper into long strips, carefully tearing them into long lines that can be transformed.

The edges aren’t straight, but she shouldn’t expect them to be, without scissors or a ruler. She’s lucky enough to have the paper. They’d found some in an old desk, old letters that Aoko is sure no one is going to miss.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” She asks, not brave enough to turn to him. The truce between them is only temporary, while they wait for rescue, but that doesn’t mean she’s not going to call him out on odd things like this.

“Like what?” He asks, softly. A sadness runs through him, in the lilt of his voice and Aoko blinks away the familiarity. KID is no one and everyone, she knows that. He takes pieces of people and builds himself on them. A phantom.

“Like seeing me is upsetting.” Aoko sighs. “If you don’t want to be in the room with me, then there’s another over there.”

“The roof in that room is a little more unstable than this one,” KID says, “I’ll take my chances with you, Nakamori-san.”

Aoko huffs. She says, “well if you’re going to take your _chances, _then they’ll be better if you stop looking at me like that.”

KID, ever the actor, shifts his expression into a smirk. For some reason, it seems almost fake on his lips.

“Why are you making those stars, Nakamori-san?” KID says, finally. Aoko shrugs her shoulders – she’s not going to give him more information for whatever weird mental profile he has on her. No way. “I know you make them whenever your sad, but why?”

Aoko glances up, frowns. “How do you know that I make them when I’m sad?”

KID leans back a little bit. Gloved hands scratch at his cheek, as if that could make everything seem a little less creepy. He says, “Well, I’ve seen it.”

“Why are you watching me to see this?” She asks, and maybe there’s a little frustration bleeding into her voice, poison from her vocal cords bitter against her tongue. “Why do you always seem to know things about me that other people don’t?”

KID shrugs his shoulders, a perfect imitation of her.

He says, “You’re not the hardest person to watch, Nakamori-san. Plus, as the inspector’s daughter, you’re optimal for information gathering.”

Aoko scrunches her nose. She says, “You’re insufferable.”

A grin. “I know.”

For a moment, KID pauses, glances around the room. It’s dusty, the aftermath of debris and rubble falling. Even though they say this room is better than the other, it’s still not _safe._ But the windows are too small too climb through and the staircases are blocked off with concrete.

“But really,” he continues, almost hesitant. “Those stars, what’s the story there?”

Aoko folds the star, creates a miniature shape and flicks it in the thief’s direction. It bounces from his forehead, and maybe usually Aoko would class that as a win, but since he hadn’t so much as tensed up, it’s easy to know he’d let the star hit.

“It’s stupid,” Aoko says, and when she sees his mouth open, she raises her hands, as if to placate him. “No, but really, it is. I take the paper, and it’s like I breathe out my negativity into this little star, and then I’m okay again.”

KID tilts his head. He says, “you have a lot of stars.”

“I guess so,” Aoko sighs. She begins to fold another strip of paper, starting with a small triangle and building on it with another triangle, before squeezing it together at the edges, inflating the star. “It’s okay though.”

“I don’t like the idea of you being sad. That’s not okay.”

A half-smile. Aoko passes him a star. It sits, slightly grey, against the ivory of his gloves. “What, because it makes it harder to impersonate me if I’m not happy?”

His expression wavers behind the monocle. He’d taken the hat off shortly after they’d realised, they were trapped inside the building, mumbled something about how it was too warm to keep on if they were just going to be sitting around.

Now, it makes him look like Kaito. But that’s his usual disguise when he’s around her, something he knows will stir up her irritations. Makes her want to curl up into a ball because he’s ruining the image of her best friend in her head.

“It’s not that.” He says, and he sounds like Kaito too, but these are things Kaito probably wouldn’t ever talk about. They really are different people, aren’t they? “I just, you deserve more than that. To be happy more often than sad.”

A weird thing for someone who disguises as the one person she hates seeing impersonated to say.

“It takes the hurt away,” Aoko whispers. “I make those stars, and I’m happier, you know? It’s – I used to have someone who made me feel happy a lot, but he’s not around as often. So, the stars will have to do.”

KID closes his eyes, almost as if it hurts to hear her say that. Almost as if he knows who she’s talking about, as if he’s somewhat feeling guilty for the things her friends do.

Who knows, really. With KID, he’s capable of doing anything.

He shuffles, lies back against the floor, staring at the ceiling. A small hand signal, beckoning Aoko to join, has her shifting, following suit. The floor is uncomfortable, she mutters as such.

KID clicks his tongue, shifts and moves her so that she’s leaning on him, lying in the crook of his arm.

He smells like nothing. Like a ghost, like he doesn’t really exist.

“You know, Nakamori-san,” KID says, as they lay there, glancing up at the ceiling, “if the stars make you feel happy when you’re sad, then I can take you out to see them.”

No, Aoko thinks. That wouldn’t work at all.

First of all, she hates KID. Doesn’t she?

Even if they’re both lying here, leaning on one another while they wait for rescue. Even if she’d told him something, she’s not dared to tell anyone before, _even if he thinks she deserves more._

“I wouldn’t even know where to find you,” she whispers. “You’re a ghost.”

KID chuckles. He says, “I could haunt you, if you wanted me to.”

Aoko closes her eyes. Haunting shouldn’t sound comforting, but it is, if only a little bit.

“Maybe after a heist some time, one day.” Aoko’s voice is hardly audible at this point. She almost can’t believe she’s forming the words. “You can steal me too. For a little while.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “I wouldn’t have to think about the things that were making me sad, if I were stolen.”

KID lets out a small laugh, breathless. “I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to steal people, Nakamori-san.”

“That’s where you draw the limit?” Aoko almost wants to kick him. “You steal gemstones and identities, but not a human being?”

“If you want me to steal you,” KID says, after a moment. Tense. Like he can’t quite believe he’s saying it at all. “Then I will. But won’t the one who makes you happy miss you?”

For a moment she wonders if he’s lonely too, as a ghost, as someone who is everyone and no one. Whether he’d like to be stolen too, in the same ways he takes things from heists.

Aoko shudders out a breath. She says, “I don’t think he’d really realise. As I said, he isn’t around much.”

KID’s exhale is long. It makes Aoko ache to hear it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 06.08 - Dark AU  
Pairing: ShinRan

The party has reached its peak.

Arranged as such, Ran had invited every person in her contacts, which not to brag or anything, is a large fucking amount. She’d invited people from all walks of life. The dealers, the addicts, informants and thieves.

Everyone with something to gain, or equally, anyone with something to lose.

All those with a dark side lingering inside of them, those who will brighten the party with stories of the grotesque – psychopaths and sociopaths in the same room, charming one another and making life-long enemies.

Ah, it’s exciting, just thinking about it.

“It’s perfect,” Sonoko says behind her, looking at everyone interacting. Networking. Both her and Ran have been making rounds tonight, introducing each other to more criminals, seeing how things spider together, linking in ways she can’t imagine, “you’ve really outdone yourself this time, Ran.”

Ran smiles, it feels almost incomplete on her lips, fake.

But as the mistress of fake identities, it works for her. She’s stolen enough identities, forged documents for enough of the people here, that fake is the equivalent to real. Who knows, anymore?

“Yes,” she murmurs, glancing around at a sea of all those who will come to her one day, who already have. “We’re just missing someone.”

“Ah,” Sonoko says, clicking her tongues. The businesswomen claps her hands together, frown crinkling her forehead. Without her frown, she almost looks too innocent to be someone capable of swindling the rich out of their money through lapping schemes. “You throw a big party but you just want _him _to show up.”

Ran stifles the urge to tell her friend to shut up. Her cheeks must flush however, because Sonoko wears that smug smile she does whenever she guesses one of Ran’s thoughts correctly.

“Excuse you,” Ran says, “It just hurts my ego when those I invite, don’t RSVP. It’s only polite Sonoko.”

Sonoko raises an eyebrow, slowly lifts her chin up angling it behind her, towards the doors leading out to the patio outside. There, stood between plant pots and overarching flowering apricot trees, is her final guest.

She’s still not sure which of the names he’s given is his. She supposes with the amount of time he’s come to visit her, buying new passports and birth certificates, she probably never will, but she knows the aliases.

Ran gives Sonoko a sharp look, lets her lips form into a smile that’s a little more _real_, and heads out towards the corridor to great her guest.

“Kudo Shinichi,” she says, looking him up and down, appreciating the way his waist coat is tight enough to show his muscles. Beneath it, his shirt is rolled up to his sleeves, his hair almost windswept and pulled back with gel. “Or is it Edogawa Conan right now?”

She’d first met him as Shinichi, and so, he remains Shinichi even now in her head, but Ran always lets him choose who he’ll be with her that day.

“Who knows,” he says, glancing up and down to appreciate her attire as well. She can’t read his micro-expressions that well but Ran likes to think that he likes her clothing as much as she likes his. “It might even be Hirai Arthur today.”

Ran offers him her hand, waits for him to lift it, pressing his lips against the skin. Like always, his lips are soft, his breath tickling her skin.

Perhaps Sonoko was correct, she’d hosted the party in an attempt to see him again. The man hasn’t needed a new identity in a while. Meaning that he’s either found a new supplier, – doubtful – that he’s not been working and thus hasn’t needed another – knowing him, an impossibility – or that he’s been working too much and hasn’t felt the need yet.

One of these days, Ran will learn just exactly what it is that the man does.

“How have you been, _Ran?”_

He lifts his chin, glances up at her and Ran can feel her own heartbeat escalate in her chest. It’s a wonder how she ever manages to operate during their meetings, since he always seems to make her tachycardic.

“I’ve been well,” Ran says, and because he’s offered no identity, she decides on choosing between them for herself. “Business is blossoming like I’d expected, and now I get to celebrate. And you, _Shinichi, _you’ve not been caught yet?”

“The FBI have tried,” Shinichi says, straightening up and bridging the gap between them. It’s almost like they’re speaking in secrets with how close he is. “And the CIA, and well, of course, the Japanese secret police, but I do well for myself.”

“It’s a surprise you managed to make the party.”

“A party of yours?” His voice is like silk, smooth somehow, despite the roughness of his voice. “I can escape detection for a night with you.”

Satisfaction electrifies through her body, electrons sparking each synapse, warning them that she might be in serious danger of doing something stupid like _swooning. _Ran settles on raising her eyebrows, angling her chin so she can see him more clearly.

“It’s a shame then,” Ran says, “that this is a party and not a private invitation.”

Shinichi grins. He lets out a low laugh, the sound sending tingles down her spine and as she goes to step away, he tugs on her hand, hard enough that she falls back, and into his arms.

“Aw, you send everyone else handwritten invitations?”

“Technically, I didn’t send the invitation to you,” she says, “but rather, through a joint associate of ours.”

“Ah, Hattori,” – His lips twist for a second, fond but exasperated – “you’re not going to tell me I’m battling against him for your affections, are you?”

“You battle against no one but yourself,” Ran sighs. And then, “I mean, who do I love more, hmm? Conan, Arthur, or Shinichi?”

“Does it matter?”

Ran takes a moment to think, pushing out from Shinichi’s hold and tapping a finger against her cheek. The wind ruffles the bottom of her dress, cool against her legs.

She says, “somewhat. I do like to know the name of the men I show interest in.”

“So, you admit there’s interest?”

The nerve. Ran shouldn’t get defensive, but she crosses her arms regardless, turning away from him.

“Less romantic and more like in the sense of a bank’s interest.” She says, “but if you can get rid of that awful unwanted company again, then maybe you could have a private invitation.”

“Handwritten?”

Ran squints, her expression dry. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

“An invitation for purely a business meeting,” Shinichi says, leaning forward, impeding on her personal space. Not unwanted, Ran finds herself leaning further into him.

“A business proposition,” Ran says.

“Can we leave the business at the door?”

“Among other things, maybe.” She pushes back, offers a wink. “But I think that all depends on if you can escape your tail, Shinichi. If not, then the deals off.”

Shinichi hesitates, for a moment. He frowns. It’s a minute thing, flickering momentarily into a smile as he says, “there’s a deal here? If I get the invitation, what do you get.”

Ran lets her lips part, the rouge of her lipstick bright against her skin and flashy enough to draw his attention. Shinichi’s eyes flicker down, and she lets out a small breath, before shrugging her shoulders.

“We’ll see,” she says. Although she already knows the answer.

Ran will get want she wants from him. Whatever resides in him, whatever catches her fancy, will be hers. His secrets, his attention, his identity.

And when that isn’t enough, she’ll have the rest of him too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: In which character A. is searching for a cat, and character B has found a cat around their windowsill  
Shipping: Gen // with - Kaito, Saguru and Akako

“What is that?”

Saguru squints across at his roommate, feels tempted almost to throw his textbook over at him, and decides against it. Kuroba is just being his strange self again, trying to distract him from his criminal law dissertation.

“I’m sure it’s very interesting,” Saguru sighs, trying to focus back on the legislation he’s researching. All very boring, important yes, but oh so very boring. He half considers procrastinating. “But not right now.”

“Oh please,” Kuroba says, “I’m pretty sure everything is more interesting that the legislation that’ll only be relevant to a single sentence of your report.”

Saguru hums. There are some interesting elements to researching his dissertation piece, but Kuroba is right that this isn’t really one of them. And it’s not even a _major _part of the research, just something he’s including because it will give him a higher grade.

Beside him, Kuroba shifts, unfolding himself from where he sits cross-legged on the sofa. He moves with a grace that Saguru catches from the corner of his eye, distracting in a criminal sense.

You know what, Saguru should probably be doing a dissertation on how his roommate is _the Kaitou KID, _there would be no shortage of articles and literature on the thief, and he’s got his own research he could add.

Then again, Kuroba would probably end up deleting his dissertation the day before submission if he did that, so… probably for the best if he doesn’t.

“I thought maybe it was a racoon, or a ferret,” Kuroba says now, and despite himself, Saguru glances up. He’s been successfully distracted. “But it’s a cat.”

Saguru lets out a sigh, pushes himself up, and follows Kuroba to the patio door that leads out to their balcony. It’s small outside, barely larger than a prison cell, but sometimes on hotter days, Saguru will study outside, dragging out one of the deckchairs from the cupboard.

“I’m sorry,” Saguru says, as he stares through the door – it’s opaque, and when he moves forward to unlock it, it slides open. “But do you even know what a ferret looks like?”

Kuroba huffs, crossing his arms. He says, “Out of the corner of my eye, it looked like it could be a very large ferret.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question,” Saguru says, and then, slipping his phone from his back pocket, he brings up a photo of said animal. Turning his screen around, he says, “That cat looks nothing like one of these.”

Kuroba does what he usually does whenever Saguru goes to show him something, and that’s steal his phone and swipe through the page without a care. Saguru rolls his eyes, steps out onto the balcony and glances at the cat.

“Ah, ferrets are kind of cute, aren’t they Hakuba?” Kuroba says. Saguru, feeling a headache coming on, decides to focus on their visitor instead.

Practically a bundle of fur, but almost elegant, the cat is easily recognisable as a Norwegian forest cat. Tufts of orange and brown fur mixed together against white fur, makes it look like the sort of pet someone would showcase in a pet beauty competition.

“Ah – Ah – Hakuba – look this one’s got a little hat on!”

Saguru takes a moment to glance away from the cat, offering Kuroba the driest look he can muster. It’s a mixture of exasperation and- nope. That’s pretty much it.

Let the man realise that even after all these years, even knowing that he’s capable of outrunning the police and committing crimes without being caught, Saguru still thinks of him as an _idiot._

“You’re an idiot,” he says, just to make sure he gets it.

“How can you be so mean to me,” Kuroba says, “knowing that when you sleep each night, I’m only a room away?”

Saguru rolls his eyes. He turns back to the cat and finds himself squinting at it. Almost nervously, he reaches his hand out, as if questioning whether the animal will allow him to smooth it.

Glancing around, it isn’t too difficult to see how it got up here. Their apartment is on the first floor, so they don’t typically see anything other than birds up on their balcony, but there is a cherry blossom a little to the side of the apartment and it’s not impossible for a cat to climb to the edge of the branches and make the jump.

“Don’t be the demon roommate Kuroba, it’s too much of a cliché.” Kuroba huffs, and Saguru successfully places his hand against fur without having claws turned against him. The cat lets out a small purr, a low grumble and Saguru can’t help but feel satisfied by it. “Should we be looking for who owns this cat?”

He can practically feel the eye roll he receives. “Why do we need to search down the owner?”

“…Well, it could be lost, couldn’t it?”

“No, no,” Kuroba says, and now he moves forward, shuffling out onto the balcony as well, grabbing the back of Saguru’s shirt, dragging him backwards. “No, we’re not searching for the owner, it’ll find its way home eventually.”

“Wha–”

“We’re not doing this again,” Kuroba says, ignoring the incredulous eyebrow raise Saguru sends his way. “No – don’t give me that look. You know what I mean.”

Actually, Saguru doesn’t. He says as such.

“I refuse. Hakuba, dude, we go searching for the owner of this cat, and we’ll only meet someone who’s lost it. A weirdo, someone insane – deranged. Whatever. I’m not doing it.”

Saguru frowns. He says, “I think that’s a bit of a reach, don’t you?”

“Please,” Kuroba says, “it’s the truth.”

“No, you’re _reaching.”_

“Oh puh-_lease,” _Kuroba taps his fingers against his elbow, arms crossed as he shakes his head. “You haven’t realised? You attract crazy Hakuba, it kind of just flocks to you.”

Saguru frowns. He squints.

“I mean, I don’t really know _why,” _the thief continues, “but my working theory is you’re just so _boring, _that the crazies flock to you because they think you’re hiding some of it.”

“I don’t attract crazy people.”

“I mean, I’m your roommate,” Kuroba shrugs, scrunches his nose. “That’s one example.”

“You’re an anomaly in the statistics,” Saguru says. “And even then, you’re not crazy, you’re just…”

He doesn’t know what to say so he simply waves the man up and down. Kaito huffs again, breathing through his nose, the side of his lips moving up in a half-grin. More amused rather than annoyed.

“Uh, sorry,” – Kuroba snorts, lets out a low laugh. – “but you do. I mean, don’t you remember Yue-san?”

Saguru winces. Alright, so maybe Yue-san, the student they’d met during the previous years summer social had been a little insane, but they’d not known that at the time. And to be fair, the woman had hardly been crazy, just a cultist who was pursuing a sociology degree and…

Okay, no, yeah, considering the fact she’d tried to indoctrinate them both into her cult, it’d kind of be stupid to deny her… _issues._

“Another anomaly.”

Kuroba groans. He sighs, goes to say something else, lips parted slightly for words when a knock echoes from the other side of the door. Saguru turns, arching his head back indoors.

“I’ll get it,” he says, because Kuroba is the kind of person who’d rather wait and say he’s not answering the door in case a murderer is on the other side. Which, well – there are so many issues with that.

“Hope you don’t die!” Kuroba says, which is pretty much confirmation that he isn’t expecting anyone.

Opening the door reveals a woman with deep, plum coloured hair. She looks concerned, worried, as she stands in front of him. For a moment, Saguru watches as she fiddles with the sleeve of her blouse and then, he blinks and reminds himself that he’s being rude.

“Uh,” he clears his throat, “hey, can I… help you?”

“Oh yes,” her voice is not hard, but there is a strictness to it, something that leaves him standing a little straighter. “Sorry, I don’t presume you’ve seen a cat around recently.”

Saguru blinks.

Well that’s easy, isn’t it. Now they don’t have to go searching for an owner.

“Ah, well, yeah I have actually.” He turns ever so slightly to look inside his apartment, to where Kuroba is now rubbing the belly of the animal in question. “A… Norwegian forest cat, yes?”

“This one?” The girl asks, and sure enough, when she shows him a picture it’s an exact likeness to the one on their balcony. “I’m quite worried about his absence.”

Saguru can understand that, how nervous someone can be when a cat is roaming around for a long time, without being seen. He says, “yeah, he’s uh – just through here. If you want to get him?”

She tilts her head, half agreeing, half thankful. Depositing her shoes by the entrance and continuing with just her socks, she waits until Saguru has closed the door and then, follows him to the balcony.

Kuroba glances up at the sound of their footsteps, and after the initial surprise at seeing a stranger in their apartment, he offers a smile. That polite one he practises for people he doesn’t know how to read yet.

“Ah, Hakuba, who is this?”

You know, maybe Saguru should have asked first. Oh well, no one ever said his social skills were very good.

“Oh, of course, I haven’t introduced myself,” she says, “my name is Koizumi Akako. It’s a pleasure to meet you – and you’ve met my cat, it seems.”

Eyebrows raised, Kuroba nods, turning back to the cat that’s nibbling now at his fingertips in an attempt to draw his attention back to him. He says, “Oh, this little guy is yours?”

“Indeed, he is,” Koizumi says.

She steps forward, scoops the furball up into her arms. The cat leans against her, immediately comfortable. It’s seems an odd sight to see – it puts up no argument, offers no movement, other than the slight curl of its tail, swishing back and forth beneath her arm.

“And what is this little guy’s name?” Kuroba continues.

Koizumi offers them a smile, soft and content as she glances down at her pet. She says, “this is Lucifer.”

Oh? What an original name.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Kuroba’s eyebrows fly up his forehead so quickly it seems almost like he’s waxed them off. It’s practically invigorating watching his roommate bite down his tongue in an attempt to not say anything.

“Is that so?” Saguru says.

“Yes,” Koizumi nods, adjusting her hand on the cat to scratch behind his ears. “This cat harnesses the spirit of the satanic majesty Lucifer himself. A drunken mistake made by myself, but we’re getting used to being roommates, I like to think.”

Kuroba jerks. It looks mildly, beneath the initial mask he wears around new company, like he’s in pain.

Maybe he’s having an aneurysm.

“But,” Koizumi continues, “he’s quite a docile little fallen angel as long as I give him tuna every so often, isn’t that right, Lucifer?”

Lucifer purrs.

Kuroba, predictably, jerks again. His lips force into a slightly larger smile than usual – it makes him look almost psychopathic, but hey, maybe it’s just because Saguru sees KID in a smile like that.

“He must love the tuna then,” Saguru says, and Koizumi nods.

“If you’ll excuse me though,” she says, voice lowering, “Lucifer and I should probably head back. We’re having a ritual dinner tonight, and I’d hate to be late.”

“Ah,” Saguru blinks. “Yes, of course. I’m glad we could – give you your cat back?”

Koizumi offers him a smile on her way out, her thanks slipping from her lips on her way out. Saguru closes the door after her and then, slowly turns around to face his roommate.

Kuroba looks almost like he’s waiting for something. He rolls his wrist, his hand waving in a way that urges him to speak. He says, “…well?”

“She seems nice.”

For a moment, all Kuroba can do is blink. Then, thrusting a hand out to point at Saguru, he says, “that’s what you’ve taken from this?_ She seems nice?”_

“Well yes,” Saguru says, pausing. “What else am I supposed to think?”

“She’s – _fucking crazy.” _Kuroba lifts his hand, brushes it through his hair. It makes his hair even messier than it usually is. “She thinks her cat is the devil, and that she’s placating him by giving him fucking _tuna, _and all you can think of is that she’s nice?”

“I mean,” Saguru pauses, “I think a lot of cat owners say their pet is the devil.”

Kuroba takes a long breath, heaves it out with so much force that it feels like his body shakes from the pressure of it. He says, “I don’t know who’s more insane. That Koizumi girl for believing that, or you, because there aren’t any little alarm bells ringing in your head.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 08.08 - Nightmares  
Pairing: KaiAo

Curled up with her knees pulled up to her chest, blankets swathed around her, Aoko takes in a deep breath. Tries to settle her heartbeat into something more natural, into a motion that no longer heaves against her chest but simply taps instead.

Is she panicking?

Why would she be panicking? She doesn’t understand.

Blinking away tiredness, she lifts her hands, elbows pointing outward as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. Aoko feels almost like a little child, and the idea of being labelled as such makes her lips twist up, a wave of amusement running through her.

It feels faintly like relief.

Beside her, leaning on his side as he dreams, Kaito shifts in his sleep, throwing off his own blankets, illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the curtains. Aoko wants to lean over, jostle him awake, shake him until he opens his eyes, and hold him close. Which is stupid, because he’s right there, it’s not like anything has _happened-_

“Fuck it,” she whispers, leaning forward. Reaching her hand out, she offers Kaito a sharp jab between the groove of his shoulder. “Hey, wake up.”

He doesn’t. Which is a little strange because usually Kaito is such a light sleeper, especially in someone else’s bed. He must be exhausted. Waking him up now seems almost cruel, if he’s sleeping that deeply. Aoko almost considers leaving him.

Then, a whimper rises up her own throat, and that overrides any guilt she might feel.

She shakes him this time, watching as he jolts awake, blinking back into the world. Always better at waking up than her, he glances around the room, instantly alert. He’s a thief, after all, Aoko would expect no less.

“Aoko–”

He pushes himself up almost immediately, the movement fluid with a grace that until recently she’d only ever associated with KID and settles his hands onto her shoulders. There’s a scratchiness to his voice, a hoarseness that has little to do with sleep, and more, Aoko knows, to do with extended silences.

“Kaito–” She blinks away tears. Why is she _crying, _she’d simply woken up and felt an overwhelming sense of terror, something weighing down on her chest. “I had a nightmare.”

His expression shifts, and for a moment, it seems like a burst of pain flashes across his face. Then, he yanks her forward, enveloping her in a hug.

“Yeah?” He asks, voice cracking. “What was it about? The nightmare?”

Aoko’s forehead creases under the weight of her frown. Still, the hug helps settle her panic slightly. Leaning her head against his shoulder helps even more.

“We fell,” Aoko whispers. She can feel his shirt getting wet from her tears, but Kaito makes no attempt to move, so she doesn’t either. “I had a dream that we were at one of your heists and there were people shooting at us, and we _fell.”_

Kaito shudders. He whispers, “and then what happened?”

Aoko leans forward, grasps onto Kaito’s shirt and tightens her hands into fists. She doesn’t want to remember that dream, doesn’t want to think about the reality that had existed inside her head while she was meant to be _resting._

“Aoko,” Kaito says, a little firmer, “what happened next?”

Perhaps she should be thinking more on why he wants to know, but they usually share their nightmares with each other, when they’re bad, and prompting one another to continue isn’t completely uncommon.

So Aoko simply breathes:

“I hit the ground.”

The breath that Kaito takes in is sharp enough that Aoko feels it cut through her. She squints her eyes, sees blood seeping from broken bones, fractures protruding out through her skin and starts to think about how _horrible _a nightmare it was that she hadn’t just woken up there and then.

“You tried to catch me,” Aoko whispers, “but there wasn’t enough time. I hit the ground and it was just a nightmare but I still felt the _agony._”

She’d dreamed she was dying, and just as she’d been falling unconscious in her dreams, Kaito dropping beside her – catching himself, with less injuries, she can’t really remember how he’d landed in her nightmare – he’d been begging her to stay awake.

Even now, she winces.

His voice has sounded so desperate.

“I don’t–” It feels like she is cracking open again, like she had during her dreams. Except instead of bones slicing through her skin, blood seeping out from the wounds, it’s more emotional. “God, it’s just- I was… _terrified.”_

Kaito leans back, offers a smile – the one that always appears when he’s trying to force an emotion when he’s feeling another – and says, “it’s okay now.”

Is he rattled by the nightmare she’d had, as well? Aoko doesn’t know. No doubt he is, for as long as she’s known his identity, he’s been afraid of getting her caught up in something dangerous.

It probably hurts him to think that he can’t protect her from things while she’s dreaming.

“Yeah,” Kaito says, voice strange, like he’s not quite focused on the words. Now that she’s pushed away, she can see the way he keeps looking at her, as if he’s not capable of looking away. “I won’t let something like that happen to you, Aoko.”

“Stupid nightmare,” Aoko whispers to herself. And then, to Kaito, “what is it? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, no,” Kaito says. He’s serious now. “I wouldn’t let you die; you get that right? Even if you did accidently get involved, I would never let you get hurt.”

Aoko’s beginning to think her nightmare isn’t just haunting her. Honestly, just being able to talk about it, has helped to settle the anxiety that had been brewing in her chest.

“I know,” she says, soft. “It was just a nightmare.”

Kaito’s expression twitches. Like there’s something he wants to say, something he can’t vocalise. Aoko won’t push it, she knows he’ll tell her when he’s ready – the early hours of the morning probably isn’t the time to be ordering him to open up.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “just a – a pretty crappy nightmare.”

Aoko untangles her legs from the blankets, plants her feet onto the floor. She says, “how about some hot chocolate? Hot chocolate always makes me feel safer after nightmares.”

He nods his head. His reply seems to have dried on his lips.

“Okay, hot chocolate time.” Standing, Aoko stretches out. The room is almost chilly now, and goosebumps rise on her arms. “Is the window open? It’s pretty cold.”

“Oh yeah,” Kaito says, distracted, “it was hot when I fell asleep, so I thought I’d open it for a while. Must have fallen asleep before I could close it.”

“Right,” Aoko grabs her dressing gown, throws it on. “Close it while I make the drinks?”

“Sure,” Kaito says.

She doesn’t hear him move until she’s halfway down the stairs.

_(Now alone, Kaito thinks about how it’s probably for the best if they don’t think about the ‘nightmare’ any more than they already have. _

_He curses, forces the window shut, and makes sure the curtains are fully closed this time, shutting out the moonlight so it will no longer_ _ accentuate the crimson in their eyes.)_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 09.08 - Stubbornness  
Pairing: Gen // With Aoko, Ran + Kaito. Pre-KaiAo.

“I think I can see what’s going on here,” Kaito says, leaning forward, practically halfway across the table. Aoko thinks he looks stupid when he does that, leaning on his elbows as if he’s preparing to climb over the diner table at any moment. “Wait – nope. What’s going on here?”

Aoko sighs, leans back in her chair.

Waving a hand towards the girl who’s sat beside her, Aoko offers a smile. She says, “this is Mouri Ran.”

“Yes,” Kaito says after a moment, “I kind of caught on after she introduced herself. Why do you too look identical?”

Ah, he’s always been quick. Aoko would give him a gold star if she had one. Although, actually, he’d probably like that, the weirdo.

“Well,” Aoko says, watching Ran from the corner of her eye. The girl tilts her head, offers a soft smile, reassuring. “That’s because we’re twins.”

His expression drops, and for a moment, Aoko isn’t sure what he’s thinking. A flash of fear, of concern? Something. Eventually, he settles on horror as he leans back against the cushioned booth.

“You mean to say there’s _two of you?”_

Ran frowns. Aoko lets out a dry laugh. “Very funny.”

“I know,” Kaito says, around a wink. “But like, I’m sorry – twins? Aoko, you’ve been an only child for sixteen years.”

“We’re _identical!_” She pauses, tries to smother the rising irritation that arises every time she talks with him. “And anyway, Ran-chan and I have proof.”

“Yes,” Rans says, quiet. She still seems like she’s in a state of shock, which Aoko supposes is understandable – they’ve only known about the others’ existence for a matter of _days._ “We found out very recently, but there’s overwhelming evidence, Kuroba-san.”

Aoko can see his eyes dull at the word _evidence. _She doesn’t call him out on it, simply reaches into her backpack and brings out the tiny memory box that belongs to her mother.

“That’s–” Kaito leans forward, eyebrows squinting. “You went into your mother’s room?”

She would find the concept of him knowing about the box suspicious, knowing his tendency to poke into things that aren’t his business, if they hadn’t been caught as children searching her mother’s bedroom as children.

“Uh-” Aoko hesitates, “well, yes, but only because I was looking for Goro. He was meowing like there’s no tomorrow. I thought he was hurt in there.”

Goro, their family cat. Aoko had wanted to name the blue Russian cat _‘Tsuki’ _because his fur had reminded her of the moon, but her mother had insisted on the name.

And well, the cat had been named Goro from there on.

He’d never responded when Aoko had tried calling him Tsuki. Which – evil cat playing favourites. Maybe it was because her mother usually took him to the law firm with her?

Who knows.

“Anyway, I found this and I opened it. It doesn’t matter how.” Aoko opens the tin now, glances at things her mother has kept back over the years. There are a lot of photos of Aoko and her mother – some are taken with her mother at the Kisaki law firm, others with them on various trips out of town – and some with her and Kaito.

Some even have all three of them.

“Look at this,” Aoko says, moving the more recent pictures and taking the photograph at the very bottom of the tin out. It’s yellowing with age, crinkled ever so slightly. She passes it over to Kaito.

His eyes widen.

“Wow,” he says, hesitant, “that’s so weird. It’s almost hard to believe.”

Aoko nods. She glances at the photo again. It depicts Aoko’s mother in her hospital bed, presumably just after delivering them. She’s hugging a baby to her chest, a tired smile up at the camera. And beside her – the man Aoko has never known – her father.

He’s holding another baby. Aoko doesn’t know who’s holding her, but she likes to imagine she’s in her father’s arms here. That they had at least one photo together.

“I don’t get it,” Kaito says, “why would your parents not tell you about each other.”

Fiddling with her hair, Ran says, “my father didn’t tell me much about my mother growing up, but he always said that near the end of their relationship they had a lot of arguments. They couldn’t _stand each other_, so they split up.”

They receive a hum. And then, after another glance at the photograph, Kaito mumbles, “and here I thought the secrets my parents were keeping from me were big…”

Beneath the table, Aoko kicks him.

Ran doesn’t need to get involved in the whole KID business yet, thank you very much. She doesn’t want to explain to her newly found twin that the boy she’s been crushing on since they were kids is actually a master criminal.

“Ow,” he hisses and then, another glance at the photograph before he passes it back, “wait, isn’t this that famous sleeping detective, Mouri Kogoro?”

“Yes,” Ran says, and she flushes, as if nervous to have family recognised. “He’s my – I mean, Aoko-chan and I’s – father. Aoko-chan told me that she recognised him from the news and wanted to meet him, so she looked up the address of our agency and brought the photograph with her.”

At the weight of Kaito’s stare, Aoko finds her own cheeks burning red. She can practically hear the thoughts as if he’s plucking them from his own head and transferring them over to her: _Your father is a **detective?**_

“I wanted to see if he could tell me about the photo,” Aoko says, trying to explain. “I’ve never had a father before, so I- Anyway. When I knocked, Ran-chan was the one who answered the door and here we are.”

“Here we are,” Kaito echoes back. He looks around the diner, to his hot chocolate on the table, and at the tea each girl is drinking. Aoko follows his gaze as it brushes past the waitresses, past the other tables and patrons enjoying their meals. “…In a diner?”

Aoko wants to kick him again. This time however, she restrains herself.

“Well, we had a plan we wanted to get you to help us with.”

The flash of his smirk shouldn’t piss her off as much as it does. Maybe because it’s accompanied by Kaito’s drawl of, “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

“Ran-chan and I want to get our parents back together,” Aoko says.

The way Kaito’s lips part into an ‘o’ shape shows Aoko that it’s not what he’d expected to hear.

“You want your parents,” Kaito says, slowly, “who, as far as you guys know haven’t seen each other in what? Sixteen years? To get back together?”

Ran, at least, has the courtesy to look embarrassed. Aoko, refuses to give in to him. She nods her head.

“That’s the plan.”

“They’ve been apart for over a decade and a half!”

Ran reaches up, scratches at her cheek. She says, “neither of our parents ever moved on to other people.”

“Circumstance.”

“And I mean, mum’s cat is named after dad. She literally called him _Goro!”_

“You’re reaching.”

“My father has letters that he writes asking for my mother to come back,” Ran says quietly, “but they’re all unsent. I doubt his pride will ever let him send them.”

Kaito’s expression shifts now. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, micro-expressions disappearing, making him a less readable, harder to figure out. He sighs, “if they wanted to be together, wouldn’t they just get back together?”

“They’re our parents,” Aoko says.

“You don’t know if they even want to be together!” Kaito blinks, takes a moment to cool himself. Aoko hadn’t expected him to be so against it, to raise his voice.

“I want to know my father,” Aoko says finally, “and Ran wants to know our mother. If they get back together, we can be a family.”

And how long has Aoko dreamed of being a full family? How many father’s days had she missed out on? how many hugs could she have had…?

Kaito breathes, “you can know them without them being together.”

“We want them to be together,” Ran says, slowly, “and we want to try that, but honestly… if they meet again, and realise they’re in the same city, wouldn’t they arrange to introduce us to each other?”

Lifting his hand, Kaito strokes at his chin. He says, “what’s to say that they don’t know that the other is in the city. I doubt Kisaki-san doesn’t already know. She reads the news.”

Alright, so that fact kind of makes Aoko’s stomach turn a little bit. Knowing how recognisable Mouri Kogoro is in the newspapers at the moment, it’d be wrong to assume her mother didn’t know…

“Well,” Ran says, “my father has only been in the news for a few months now. It might be less a fact of our mother not knowing, and more, trying to figure out what to do now.”

“And your dad?”

“Well, when they first split up, Mum and I moved to Nagoya. We stayed there until I was around five.” Aoko tilts her head, considering. “It’s possible he thinks we’re still there.”

“You lived in Nagoya, Aoko-chan?” Ran claps her hands together. “It’s so beautiful. Dad, Conan-kun and I visited on a trip a while back.”

“Conan-kun?”

“Oh yes,” Ran says, “Conan-kun is like my… honorary little brother? He’s been staying with us for a while now, since his parents move around a lot, and it’d be cruel to not let him settle in one place.”

“Ah, I see.”

Actually, considering it, that name connecting to Mouri Kogoro does sound familiar. Are they referring to Edogawa Conan maybe? The famous KID-killer that Kaito finds himself playing games of wits with during his heists.

She glances at him from the corner of his eye, and is satisfied to see his eye twitch, ever so slightly, as he comes to the same conclusion.

“Oh, oh,” Aoko claps her hands together, “I’d love to meet him at some point. We could have him visit us at some point, Kaito is really good at babysitting too – aren’t you?”

She sends him a look.

It reads: _Help us, or I stick the KID-killer on you and hope he figures out your identity._

“R-right,” Kaito says, leaning back to rub at the back of his neck. “Fine – whatever, I’ll help. But honestly, I don’t know what you want me to _do.”_

“I have a plan,” Aoko says, finally. She shares a smile with Ran and takes a sip of the tea she’s long since forgotten. It’s cold now, they’ll have to order fresh cups. “Let me explain–”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes on the twins AU because I’ve thought a bit about it and wanted to share:
> 
> -In this AU, obviously Aoko isn’t Nakamori’s daughter. Instead, she’s Eri and Kogoro’s daughter, and Ran’s identical twin. When Eri left Kogoro, the twins were maybe 5-6 months old and they came to the agreement that they would each take one of the girls. As such, Aoko is named Kisaki Aoko.  
\- Eri takes Aoko, and they move away to Nagoya until Aoko was 5, then they moved in next door to the Kuroba’s in Ekoda.  
\- Aoko doesn’t hate KID so much because her father isn’t chasing him down and as such, she doesn’t feel like she’s missing being able to see him. Kaito told her about how he is KID, but doesn’t mention much about all the danger he’s in.  
\- When Kaito was about 11, years after his father’s death, Chikage started seeing dating Inspector-Nakamori. They’re currently engaged. Now, Kaito is essentially being hunted down by his step-father.  
\- Chikage didn’t know about KID, or about Toichi being murdered. In this, she retired shortly after Toichi saved her and before he debuted at KID. She had suspicions but she never knew for certain.  
\- Aoko’s plan for Kogoro and Eri to get back together involves having Kaito use his impersonation skills to get them both to come to the same hotel under the premise of work.  
\- Conan and Kaito learn the truth about each other pretty early on, and try to navigate the truth without letting the twins and their parents in on it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 12.08 - Life/Death Swap  
Pairing: Gen // With Kaito, Aoko + Toichi. Pre-KaiAo.

“You should probably apologise to him, you know.”

Kaito turns to Aoko with such speed behind the pivot that he’s surprised he doesn’t keep turning. Instead, he wobbles slightly, trying to recollect his balance, his eyes narrowing down in a glare.

“I will do no such thing,” he hisses, and maybe the words are a little harsh, but they also seem to grow colder whenever his father is involved, these days. Their relationship, as it seems to have been since his mother died, is still on rocky shores.

“But it was your fault this time,” Aoko says, tapping her finger against her cheek. She’s always been good at imparting common sense into him, but there are some things that Kaito won’t allow. And this – things relating to Kuroba Toichi – is one of those things. “Kaito – you’re being stubborn.”

“I’m allowed to be angry,” he says, turning away again, as if the shrubs around them will offer their agreement, since Aoko seems keen on not giving him hers. It’s alright, he’s always liked plants more than people _anyway._ “I won’t apologise for being angry.”

“This is about the latest tour, right?” Aoko asks. She doesn’t seem to believe that it is, and honestly, Kaito understands why – because he’s never had a problem with his father’s tours before. In the past, he’d wanted the space, would much rather enjoy being babysat by Jii or spending a few nights with the Nakamori’s.

Kaito is pretty sure Aoko can smell a lie when he throws them out. Can hear them in the way his voice strains, attempting to remain normal. Whatever inflection he puts into his tone is always noticeable on her end.

“Exactly,” he lies.

Except, of course, it’s not like that. He’d blown up at his father after he’d finally been let into the age-old secret of who his father really is. KID. After he’d found out exactly what that _meant._

“I thought he was touring Japan next?” Aoko says. “That means he’ll be home more often, doesn’t it?”

What it _means_ is that his old man is bringing the KID gig back to Japan, now that he’s trained Kaito into being his perfect little contingency plan.

“Yeah,” Kaito says, “he decides that he just wants to waltz back home and pretend he hasn’t basically left me to be raised by others because he’s too busy to do it himself.”

“Well what exactly is it that you want, Kaito?” Aoko asks. Exasperation bleeds from her tongue. “You want him to be around or not? Because it seems like you don’t really even know yourself.”

Probably because Kaito _doesn’t know _himself.

He doesn’t know what to think, or how to feel. He doesn’t know how to react to the knowledge that his father has been the phantom thief that Aoko’s father has been chasing for practically a _lifetime._

How should he feel knowing that Jii was an assistant to KID, that he’d only helped raise Kaito so much because together they’d both been training him to take the mantle of KID, if the original KID was killed in a way similar to Kaito’s mother?

“I don’t _know _what I want,” Kaito says, “just that I don’t want to apologise when this is all his fault in the first place.”

Aoko gives him one of those half smiles that she reserves for the times he’s acting stupid. It comes with a raised eyebrow and the quickest of eye rolls. She says, “You can’t just talk to him?”

“How could I _talk to him?”_ Kaito says, “You’ve met my dad. I talk to him and instantly, I lose.”

“Ah,” Aoko says, shaking her head, “I think you’re being dramatic now.”

“No,” he refuses to back down on what he knows to be the _truth._ “You know _him._ He’s always so fucking _calm _that whenever I talk to him with the slightest bit of emotion flaring up, I always sound like I’m coming off hysterical.”

“Your dad has always been very calm though,” Aoko says, “and you’ve managed before.”

“No,” Kaito says. “I always _lose. _It always ends up with me being told to calm down because I’m getting to emotional, being told a lesson about how I should wear a fucking _poker face _or some shit.”

He receives a grimace.

“Well why don’t you play by his rules then,” Aoko says. She crosses her arms, “If being emotional doesn’t get him to respond, then… why not try… lacking in it instead?”

For a moment, he pauses. He supposes that is an idea, something that might finally get his father to respond to how he’s feeling for once. Kaito is, after all, always responding to the things his father does, and when he’s too emotional over things, he’s always playing into the man’s hands, somehow.

“You mean,” Kaito turns, tilts his head, “pretend I don’t care at all?”

“Well, no. You shouldn’t stop caring about things. But – if he won’t listen, why are you bothering to share those feeling with him in the first place?” Aoko sighs. “Why share with someone who won’t listen?”

This is why Aoko is one of his favourite people, he thinks. She always offers an answer that he thinks could work, somewhat. He’d much rather spend time with her as himself than with his father as some backup plan in case he’s the only one _not murdered._

Kaito takes a deep breath, crosses his arms. And then, he says, “yeah. I think that might work.”

“Crappy dad’s huh,” Aoko mutters under her breath. “Why’re they always so stuck with work?”

Kaito breathes out a sigh. Then, “because they’re jerks.”

He blinks, and then, leaning forward to tug at her bag strap, pulling her nearer, he says, “hey, how about we actually finally go to that new karaoke place?”

Aoko grins. She says, “sure thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Some notes while I think of this AU:
> 
> \- In this AU, Chikage dies instead of Toichi. In this concept, the org aimed to kill the Phantom Lady, as WELL as KID. So she died during a heist and Kaito grows up without a mother, rather than without a father.  
\- Toichi is an almost absent-ish father, because he’s both a world famous magician, AND still KID. As such, Kaito doesn’t see him for extended amounts of time. When he was younger, this meant a lot of time spent with the Nakamori’s and Jii.  
\- Since his wife died, Toichi has slowly been working with Jii to teach Kaito to become KID, in-case he too is to die during a heist. Kaito has very recently been informed of this, and he feels more like a contingency plan, and less like Toichi’s son.  
\- Kaito probably ends up telling Aoko about this, and while she’s angry at Toichi, she respects Kaito’s wish not to turn him in. She is however, very angry and refuses to visit the Kuroba household, or Jii’s bar.  
\- Since Kaito hates the fact he’s been raised to be KID, he refuses to be as such. However, his training comes into play when he and Aoko decide to go ahead from his father, and try to find Pandora so he can stop being a thief and wont be at such a risk of being hunted down by this organisation.  
\- They kind of become a thieving duo, but they don’t do as such with a show, like KID. They act more in the shadows. In this AU, Aoko is to Kaito, what Jii is to KID, assistant-wise.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 13.08 - Misunderstandings  
Pairing: Gen // With Hakuba, Akako, Kaito + Aoko

“Hakuba-kun,” Akako says, her voice slow as she speaks to the knight beside her, glances at the glass canister in his hands. “Is this really the…”

She pauses, watches as the man glances down at the canister.

Inside, swimming in fluid designed to preserve, is a human hand.

Were Akako not used to the horrors of human consumption, to the actions that a broken psyche can produce, she’s certain she’d have lost what was left undigested from her lunch. Instead, all she feels is uncertainty. The limb, after all, has a lot of magic residue.

Hakuba, usually filled with confidence and a lack of tension to his shoulders, now simply nods his head. He is abnormally pale, as if holding such a relic makes shivers run and down his spine. Even from beside him, Akako can feel the magic overflowing – it’s owner, had been one of the strongest wizards in recorded history.

He’d also, been brimming with ambition bordering on _insanity._

“Yes,” Hakuba says, finally. “It’s the first of the thaumogenic tubes… his right hand. We’ll have to let the alchemists confirm it, but already – can’t you feel that?”

She can. It’s almost terrifying to think that so much magic power can be contained in simply the _hand _of a deceased wizard.

“Anyway,” the knight says, glancing back up at the trees that spindle around the old mansion they’ve just raided. “let’s head back. I believe we’ve left Nakamori-san waiting with his guards for long enough.”

He pushes past bushes, the pathway overgrown and left for nature to consume. Perhaps if Akako had a higher proficiency with earth magics, she would be able to bend nature to their advantage, helping lessen the toll they have to take.

Instead, she is proficient in fire and water magics. In destruction and healing. Two sides of a coin, and yet neither that can help with navigating this forest.

They push back through the shrubbery, and then, as soon as Akako feels like they’re back – she senses it. The magical aftermath of a battle.

Hakuba startles in front of her, freezes as he steps out into the clearing. She almost walks into his back, but she feels her muscles seize as she glances out as well.

Sweat trickles down her neck as she glances around and sees knights collapsed onto the floor, unconscious. An ambush, the lot of them easily outnumbered, despite years of training and such experience in fighting against mages.

But that is not what haunts them the most.

“Hey there.”

It is the implication that only one person has managed to take them down – and yet, without the scent of any foreign magic in the air.

Clad in black, except for the white of both the mask coving his mouth and the white poncho he wears over his protective gear, the man sits atop Nakamori’s unconscious body, pushing the soldier down into the dirt.

He swings the dagger in his hand forwards, flicking it between his fingers with a dexterity that is almost unnatural. Akako feels herself shudder.

“As you can see,” he says, “I got a little bit bored just waiting for you. What took you guys so long?”

Hakuba takes a step forward, and it is all Akako can do not to force a magical barrier up between them, to keep them safe from this threat. She’s not sure what it is with him, but the lack of any magical force leaves her feeling nervous.

The absence of magical ability, Akako knows, is the sign of a highly skilled magic user capable of cloaking said magic.

“You’re responsible for Nakamori-san’s state, and that of his troops?” Hakuba asks, his eyes narrowing into a glare. Akako tries to glare too, to be certain of herself, but she can’t feel the same certainty that Hakuba does. She’s far too surprised.

“Oh yeah, about that,” the man flicks his dagger, the handle glistening beneath the moonlight, before leaning it back over his shoulder. He rolls out his shoulders, like there’s no threat around to be concerned over. “They did put up a bit of a fight, but as you can see, there’s no real threat from them now.”

Slowly, tilting his head, he stretches out his free hand, palm facing upwards. It’s impossible to see what might be beneath his mask, but Akako gets the faint impression, from the lilt to his voice, melodic and light, that he might be smiling.

“Doesn’t matter now,” the man continues. “I know you just went to the trouble of getting that from the mansion, but you don’t suppose I could take it, do you?”

Akako feels her heart thump against her chest. Similarly, she watches the surprise pulsate through her partner, the man leaning forward, eyes widening with something akin to horror.

“Fear magic,” Akako whispers to Hakuba, as she recognises the force for what it is. “He’s using _fear magic._”

Hakuba clutches the glass tightly against his body. She can practically see the metal where it is digging against skin.

“Not exactly _fear magic,”_ the man says. He winks. “but that could be considered a subsection to the magic I’m using. My father taught me it.”

Akako narrows her eyes. The brand of magic sits in the back of her head, boxed away with other valuable knowledge and for a moment, she tries to unbox it all, sifting through.

“Anyhow, that hand,” he grins, “I’d like it. But – well, if that thing is more valuable to you than this soldier’s life, then, you can go ahead and keep it… And I’ll kill _him._”

Akako shivers, magic trickles down her spine, and she knows it is not her own, but his. Spell-made fear created to torture her until the give out.

A whimper rises from Akako’s throat.

“What are you going to do,” he asks. “I’d be quick, all it’ll take for me is a few seconds. I just have to swing down this dagger and he’s _gone.”_

She feels the realisation spread through her before her thoughts can catch up. Summoning circle beneath her feet, spread through her like an electric strike, Akako prepares flames, ready to thrust them forwards at their opponent.

“Wait, Koizumi-san.” Hakuba says, lifting his arm and throwing it out in front of her, pushing her back, leaving her stumbling. “He’s not lying.”

Of course, he isn’t.

“He’s got a proficiency in _Mind.”_ Akako gasps. Her mouth feels dry, beads of sweat on the back of her neck. “There was only one other–”

_-And they have his dismembered hand right here._

Hakuba shifts. He says, “You’re the disciple.”

“Oh of course, introductions must be made.” The man lifts his hand up, wiggles his fingers in a manner similar to a wave. It sends a wave of despair through Akako – unnatural and not her own. “I was that wizards _KID, _yes.”

KID’s stare is almost indecipherable. The only thing Akako sees, is blank emotion staring back, something as eerie as it is uncomfortable.

“Then you know that this hand belongs to Kuroba Toichi,” Hakuba says. “The great wizard, the undying man, the gate to necropolis.”

KID lowers his chin. He says, “I’d know as such, yes.”

“Then you would know how these pieces would be rightly labelled seeds of chaos.” Hakuba turns to Akako, as if willing her to help him make the man see reason. “With the necropolis closed, they’re the only pieces that can open it back up.”

Lowering his dagger, Akako watches as KID’s expression shifts into a glower.

“Surely knowing that the world is finally at _peace,” _Akako says, the words bursting from her in a fit of panic, “you wouldn’t be such a fool as to thrust it back into a war. Right?”

His shoulders shake.

Akako feels her heart drop in her chest, feels almost as if it is colder, stone wrapping around the muscle. It takes almost a moment to realise that he’s laughing, the sound chilling, spreading through the forest like a nightmare after midnight.

“W-what’s so funny?” she asks, and maybe she would feign bravery with others, but she finds herself stepping backwards as KID slowly pushes himself up to his feet.

The lone disciple of Kuroba Toichi, the only person to be taught such dangerous magic, something capable of leaving a person stuck as a shell of who they once were…

There had been a reason the man had been murdered and dismembered, after all. And that had been because of the _danger _only _one _of his magics had possessed.

“I just find the both of you _funny,”_ KID says, voice dropping down into something darker, a cruel kind of humour as if they’ve told him something unforgivable. “You can’t honestly expect after hearing that, I wouldn’t laugh.”

Hakuba’s eyes widen. Akako clenches her hands into fists, questions whether now is an acceptable time to create her magic circles, detonating them at various points in the air, explosives to make him stand down.

“Bring back war?” KID says, finally, when his shoulders settle into an almost unnatural stillness. “That sounds like – _fun. _I could go for an age of war. Who gives a _fuck _about all this peace crap?”

Hakuba’s hand goes down to the hilt of his sword. He doesn’t have the time to unsheathe the weapon however, not before the sound of hooves begins to echo through the forest, voices echoing.

Reinforcements.

“We were told that Kuroba Toichi’s disciple could go free following his death fifteen years ago,” Hakuba says, voice low. Even if he is not loud, it still carries through the clearing, louder than Akako’s pulse in her ears, louder than their reinforcements. “But you should know I _cannot _ignore that statement.”

“And you should know,” KID says, “that I will not allow you to keep my masters _hand.”_

Akako’s breath is cold against her lips.

“It seems I cannot take it tonight,” KID says, “but I will return for it. I give you my _word.”_

Horses flood the clearing, soldiers atop them, and it is all Akako can do not to scream for them to avoid the injured that have collapsed. Perhaps it is luck that keeps them from trampling the unconscious men.

Hakuba stiffens.

Akako turns to him just in time to watch KID race past the man, gloved fingers brushing against the man’s neck as he moves.

A silent taunt. A whisper that if he’d decided to use his dagger, the metal would have sliced through before Hakuba could react.

“Until we meet again,” KID says, and then, he is gone.

* * *

_[Later, the thief KID walks through the trees, the outline of a woman walking alongside him._

_“Kaito,” she says, slowly, the words almost trancelike. Where KID has had his demeanour and magic taught to him by the late Kuroba Toichi, she has had hers taught to her by Kuroba Chikage. “You said that you would welcome an age of war?”_

_The call her, Kuroba Chikage’s Phantom Lady._

_“A lie,” KID answers, his voice low. “You know the real reason we’re searching for the thaumogenic pieces.”_

_“Because they’re the pieces of your father.”_

_He closes his eyes, as if in pain._

_“Yes…” KID sighs. “Aoko… I don’t care what they want to think, but I just want to… give my father a proper burial.”]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This is an AU based loosely around Hitsugi Hime no Chiaka.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 14.08 - Character A protects Character B  
Pairing: Pre-MakoSono (Makoto x Sonoko)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is also set in the same fantasy AU as yesterday's prompt. Except, we get to see some other characters instead.

The knock comes in the dead of night.

From where he’s been lying restless in his bed, Makoto shifts. The knock isn’t loud enough for it to be originating from their home, but rather from the annex next door, from their shop.

A customer this late?

Makoto thinks that no good can come from this.

Still, it’s probably for the best if he takes control of their late-night guest instead of his father. He’s always been strong, and not altogether incapable of using the weapons that his family forges.

He pushes himself out of bed, pulls his blanket off and grabs his shirt, trying to make himself somewhat decent despite the bags he knows pull at the skin beneath his eyes.

The stairs creak on his way downstairs, but his father has always been capable of sleeping through louder sounds. He passes the main house, through the side door that leads out into the shop, and heads to the door.

Makoto isn’t a fool: He doesn’t unchain the latch as he opens it.

Outside, there is little light except that from the waxing moon, and as such, it’s almost difficult to make out the figure in front of him. Even his glasses don’t offer much help for his sight when it comes to _light._ What he can see however, is that the figure of his guest.

Petite, small. A female covering their face with a hood, her hands wrapped around her from the cold.

Perhaps his first thought should not be _assassin, _since there is no reason for either Makoto, nor his father to be assassinated, but the threat comes to mind and he feels the overwhelming urge to shut the door.

“I’m sorry,” comes a whisper, finally, “I know it’s late. I was hoping I could buy something.”

The voice is familiar.

Makoto has heard it before. One of the heiresses of the Suzuki family: Suzuki Sonoko. The younger of two sisters, she happens to be the most sheltered. Makoto has heard rumours before – that her constitution is weak, that she remains inside the Suzuki mansion because the outside is too much for her body.

Looking at her now, Makoto knows the rumours are false: she does not look an inch like a woman too weak for life.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Makoto says, for lack of anything else to say.

Sonoko shivers, nods her head. She says, “Well yes, I know that but… It couldn’t wait.”

The only time Makoto has seen her before, was during the witching trails, when her friends had been competing to see if they could advance their magicking titles. She’s cheered them on and raced onto the field when they’d advanced as if she couldn’t wait then, either.

He sort of gets the impression that a lot of things can’t wait when it comes to Suzuki Sonoko.

So, he closes the door. Unlatches it and allows it to swing open. If Suzuki Sonoko is an assassin set out to murder him, then he supposes that he’ll admit the foolery to be all his. But for now, he nods his head and allows her to enter the shop.

Nervous, she does.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Sonoko says, and Makoto finds himself waving the concern off, finds that his words fade away as he closes the door behind her, turning around to face her.

Now that she is inside, she lowers her hood.

Her hair, once long and plaited, two plaits that usually fell to just above her hips, now sits lose just past her chin. It’s uneven, hacked off with a sense of urgency that sends a shiver down Makoto’s spine.

Despite that, she looks beautiful.

“Oh,” Sonoko says, watching him staring, “I suppose I should have explained who I was before asking entry…”

He’s staring.

She probably thinks he’s staring because Sonoko is a _Lady, _because she’s nobility and nobles don’t tend to be seen out after dark, not when they can remain in their mansions, sleeping in the height of luxury.

“I know you, Lady Suzuki,” Makoto says, after a moment. He turns his gaze from her, focusing on the sharp metals of the knives he’s helped his father forge, trying to stifle the blush rising up his neck. “I just don’t understand what urgency would bring you to _our _shop.”

Sonoko glances around the store.

“Well, this is the blacksmiths, isn’t it?”

Makoto offers out a stuttered yes. They forge weapons from fire, for knights and soldiers alike, some imprinted with charms to help the wielder, and others without, but he doesn’t see how this would help _her._

The Suzuki family has their own armoury, after all. Maybe she’d need to ask some of the soldier’s in her employ for something, but there is nothing she would go without.

“Good,” Sonoko says, when she notices the nod. She’s looking at the various weapons, moving from piece to piece, her finger brushing against the blades as if to assess how sharp they are. “Well, I’d like to buy a dagger.”

“A dagger…?”

She turns to him, not with a quickness that is dangerous, but rather with an urgency that is _desperate._

“Or a knife,” she continues, “as long as it is sharp, and small, and altogether unassuming. I’m – No, I – I need one urgently.”

Makoto’s mouth feels dry. He says, “Give me a few days and I’ll make the best knife you’ve ever see-”

_“No.”_ Sonoko pitches forward, eyes wide, forgetting herself. It’s only now, that Makoto really realises the pack she’s wearing. As if she’s gearing up to go somewhere far away. “Whatever you have in this store, whatever you trust is good enough.”

There are no fancy jewel embroidered knives or daggers in the shop, not at the moment. They either have standard weaponry for adventurers that come into the shop, or they have better weapons that are directly commissioned by nobility or the military.

“We’ve only got… weapons below your status at the moment,” Makoto says, and his gaze settles on her now, to the tremble of her shoulders. “I’m sorry… My Lady.”

“I don’t care if it’s beneath me,” she says, “I need to leave, and I can’t without a weapon. I’ll take a kitchen knife, if that’s all you can offer.”

Makoto frowns. He’s not going to sell Suzuki Sonoko a _knife._

“We’ve got a dagger in the back,” Makoto says, thinking over the merchandise they have for sale. “It’s a smaller one, a curved blade that’s pretty light. I can bring it out for you.”

“Please,” Sonoko gasps. “However, much it costs, I just need it…”

Outside, the sky flashes with lightning.

Sonoko flinches.

“You know what,” she says, throwing herself forward, in front of him, her arms out as if to bar him from going away into the storage cupboard, “We don’t need to go back for that one, I found one I like.”

She leans forward, grabbing hold of a knife that has a hilt too wide to comfortably remain in her hands. Makoto tries not to wince. While it’s possible to hold onto the hilt, to keep the knife in her hand, it’d be nigh impossible to keep a proper grip during a fight.

“Lady Suzuki,” Makoto says, his voice low. “That one isn’t suitable for–”

“I-It’s fine,” her trembling is even worse than it had been before. “I’m – I’ll take this one please, uh–”

“Makoto,” he says, “Kyogoku Makoto…”

“Kyogoku-san,” Sonoko says, “this is the one that I want.”

He leans forward, glances her up and down. Perhaps it’s overstepping his boundaries – scratch that, it _definitely _is – but Makoto settles his hands on her shoulder’s. The muscles are unbearably tense.

“Forgive me, Lady Suzuki,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “But what are you so scared of? Why would a noble like yourself even need a dagger with such urgency?”

She blinks. And then, turning away, “I need to go away. It isn’t safe.”

“What’s dangerous enough that you would be forced to flee in the middle of the night?” Makoto asks.

“The manor,” Sonoko looks up, and now, she meets his gaze with a steady determination. The fear doesn’t go away, but there’s a bravery behind her eyes too. He can almost fall in love with someone who has a bravery like that. “I overheard something I shouldn’t – a plot.”

A plot?

“If I stay,” Sonoko says, her voice low. “Then I don’t think I’ll survive it…”

So, she will go alone? Into a world she knows nothing about, fighting to survive as someone with little possessions when she’d been raised with so many? Even now, she cannot hide the wealth she’s come from – even dressed down, she looks _dressed up._

“You’ll be killed?”

“In the simplest of terms, yes.”

Makoto takes a moment to consider everything. His father has years left in him, has never struggled to keep the shop up and running. He’d probably be fine if Makoto were to…

“I’ll come with you,” Makoto says. He feels bold declaring it, but honestly, he doubts that Sonoko will survive by herself. Not with mercenaries spread so thickly through the forests, not when the world is not as peaceful as it claims to be. “You won’t have to go alone.”

Sonoko’s eyes widen. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I don’t even _know _you.” Sonoko says. “And you don’t understand the severity of this situation… if you help me, you could _die.”_

But if he doesn’t help, and this woman is killed regardless?

“Let me pack some things,” Makoto says, “I won’t let you go alone.”

* * *

Makoto doesn’t take his time packing; He fears Sonoko will leave if he does.

Instead, he grabs the essentials. A spare set of clothes, the pouch of coins he’d been saving back in order to commission a gift for his father’s nearing birthday and the first dagger his father had made him. He sheathes the blade around his waist, and then, decides that if he’s going to help protect someone with a death warrant, he probably needs a second weapon too.

He’ll grab his sword from the storage cupboard, along with the more fitting dagger he’d had in mind for Sonoko.

As he heads downstairs, he wraps some bread and cheese in a cloth, placing it in the backpack he’s grabbed. Other things too – a vial of leftover medicinal herbs that they won’t miss, and a small whetstone from the back, to keep their weapons maintained.

Once he’s grabbed everything he can think of, he heads out to Sonoko, breathing out a sigh of relief when he returns and she’s still _there._

“Here.” He hands the dagger out to her, urging her to take the hilt. “This one is probably more suitable.”

“Kyogoku-san… I can’t–”

“Call me Makoto,” he says, quietly, “and you can. You should – this is your life on the line, you should take all the help you can get.”

Slowly, Sonoko nods. She looks like she’s biting the inside of her cheek, chewing on the premise of taking help. Eventually, she nods her head.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I mean it… Makoto-san… really. Thank you.”

Makoto nods his head, stiff. He says, “Lets go then, Lady Suzuki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *A note. I wanted to add another scene into this oneshot but then my body started to complain and everything is spinning so I’ll add it at another point, if I get to it. So - yeah, this is more a promise of protection so far, than ACTUAL protection in like, a fight or anything. Sorry about thaaaat. But sleep calls.


End file.
